Restless Thoughts
by graywords-girl
Summary: They moved to their own beat. While everyone else was doing the Waltz, they were doing the Tango,' JackChloe. Some characterization mixed with mindless fluff. Oneshot for now


**Restless Thoughts

* * *

**

Pairing: Jack/Chloe

**Disclaimer:** 24 and all relating characters belong to their respective owners. If I owned them, trust me, you'd know it.

_Author's Notes: No time frame set up here,so just get creative, okay?

* * *

_

It was nearly two in the morning when Chloe finally managed to stumble through the door of her apartment, and at that point, she was ready to completely crash. She ignored the short hall that led to her bedroom, instead navigating her way around the cluttered floor towards her couch, content to flop onto it and fall asleep. She frowned when she realized that wouldn't be possible: her couch was already offering residence to one very sleeping Jack Bauer.

Okay, so it was really more over his couch now- how many times had she come home to find him using it, watching TV or just sitting there, thinking? More than she could count. And she was always telling him he was welcome with her at anytime. So, it shouldn't have been that surprising. But still, he had never slept, to her knowledge, in her apartment before.

Still, he was her friend. So, she did what she could to make him comfortable- grabbed a blanket from the closet and draped it over him, turned off the TV so it wouldn't wake him- and then went to her bedroom, slipping into an older t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. It felt odd to change her clothes, knowing he was in the same house. And then, she fell face down onto her soft bed and fell asleep, almost instantly.

Two hours later, she woke up stiff and alert. Something wasn't right. For a minute, she couldn't place what was wrong- why her body had forced her awake- but it didn't take long for her to figure it out. A strong, familiar arm was now draped over her waist, and she practically surrounded by him: Jack.

Okay, so this was different, but not at all unpleasant. Still, it was more than a little bit alarming when she thought of the fact that he had, at some point, slipped into her bed and basically embraced her. He might have been sleepwalking. But that thought seemed pretty absurd; Jack? Sleepwalking? When Jack slept, he basically became somewhat of a rock. She'd caught him in the break room, dozing on enough occasions to know that much. (Shewas verycareful not toconfuse the terms 'rock' and'secure'. While Jack couldsleep deeply, he could also snap awake at any moment.)She wasn't complaining though. In truth, she was seeing stars at that point. Bill Buchanan could have appeared in the room wearing a pink tutu and singing in Arabic and she would have just nodded and gone back to her happy little world.

She wasn't stupid- she knew Jack, and knew that chances were he would wake up and write it off as a mistake. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from taking advantage of the situation. For God's sake, this was _Jack Bauer_. It was no secret that she had an… interest in him. (Crush was too childish a term; infatuation sounded like a disease to her, and love interest made her sound like a stalker.) As far as she was concerned, this was a message from the fates.

She turned in his arms, as quietly and slowly as possible, fearful of waking him. He stirred, a bit, shifted his grip on her, but didn't wake completely. She relaxed into a comfortable position- her head against his chest, encased in his arms- and fell into what was probably the most fitful sleep of her life.

It easily became a habit for them: he would come over, usually at some ungodly hour, but this time instead of her couch, he would go to her bed. She was asleep sometimes- curled into a defensive position even as she rested- but other times she was wide awake, reading or playing with one of her toys. (She had this thing about making itty-bitty robots out of spare computer parts and then winding them up and watching them wander her house aimlessly- she was really good at it, too.)

It wasn't something they really talked about. It went unspoken, really. It was obvious they had reached a new level in their relationship- not quite romantic, but beyond the friendship point. It was a limbo, of sorts, that no one but them could really understand. They each had separate reasons for why they weren't ready for the next step, and they accepted those reasons without fuss: she was pure; he didn't want to taint or ruin her with his bloody hands. He, and his heart, were fragile; they couldn't take another crack or break in them.

An old cliché came to mind when she thought about it: "Dancing around each other." But she quickly tossed that aside; there weren't really dancing around each other; they were in perfect step with each other. It was more like… everyone else was doing a fine Waltz, while they were doing the Tango; always moving to their own beat.

In truth, they were the only ones that could completely understand each other. It was comforting to be in the presence of someone who cared and understood.

He was- to many- a lone wolf; always on his own, away from the pack. To her, he always resembled a very stubborn bug, which was an odd analogy considering the fact that she was damn near head-over-heels with him. But it was the best way she could describe him; he was too stubborn to die, always came back, and could annoy the hell out of her when he tried. But… in other ways he was like her old Husky-Samoyed (whom she had affectionately named Ice because of his white coat): loyal, brave, and always with her. It wasn't hard for her to figure out what made him tick; it was far too easy to figure in her mind. He was, in essence, a 'dark, conflicted man' who had seen more in his life than one manneeded to. He was barely alive as it was, but somehow he never lost that last spark inside him.She knew there would always be a part of him she would never see,but she accepted that.

She was more complex than him by a ten-fold.

For starters, she was a genius. A flat up, hands down _genius_. And not just when it came to computers, either; anything and everything was fair game for her. She was almost like a sponge when it came to information; she'd absorb it, filter and process it, and then store it away for later. Often times, when work was slow, he would find her just watching the people around, a dark and calculating look in her eyes as she went through equations and various scenarios. He often thought that if she ever got control over that look- ever gained the ability to pull it out whenever she wanted- then she could be one _hell_ of an interrogator. Even _he_ had a hard time lying to her when she got that look.

But the fact that she was so intelligent often isolated her from others. She was always two steps ahead of everyone else; while they were on Plan A, she was on Plan C or D, because she'd already calculated and determined that Plans A, B, and possibly C would fail. She was always right, too. She worked on a different level than everyone else, and because of that, they found it hard to follow her winding thought process. He could keep pace with her, which was a feat all its own, but even if he couldn't, he would always just nod and tell her to do whatever she needed. That amount of freedom gave her the room she needed to keep them all alive.

She was also an empath. And a very strong one, at that. She kept it hidden by surrounding herself with strong barriers of blunt honesty and sarcasm, but she couldn't hide the fact that she was susceptible to other people's feelings. And it was that empathy that probably drew her to him in the beginning; she had felt his pain- his misery- and was had been driven by an overwhelming desire to make him feel _better_. He knew that chances were he would never be fixed completely, but she did a damn good job of bandaging the open wounds.

It was on one those nights that he came that she began to realize the intimacy of their relationship. And it really was intimate; they had a complete understanding of each other, and somehow managed to fall into a rhythm that seemed as though they'd been practicing for years. They were practically living together, and, despite the fact that they never even kissed, managed to slip into a routine that most couples never gained until several years after marriage. (The fact that they slept in the same bed added some flavor into the equation.)That made her stop and think: could they be considered a couple? How the hell do you determine if you're _with_ someone, anyway? Or, better yet, how do you know if you're _with_ someone like Jack Bauer?

She thought over it and thought over it, but for the life of her couldn't come up with a decent answer. She knew, in the back of her mind, that this was one of those questions she would need help with.

She didn't realize that her thoughts were keeping someone else awake as well.

Jack had woken up several minutes into her mental search, but hadn't been able to slip back into sleep because she was too damn wound up. She never noticed, but when she got too wrapped up in her thoughts, she went stiff as a board, and that made it somewhat hard to get comfortable. And, he was just generally concerned for her. Usually when she thought about something too much, it meant she was searching for the answer to some equation that obviously wasn't making sense, which made her somewhat depressed. And he could also tellshe wanted to say something, but was hesitant, whether it was because she thought he was asleep or was just self-conscious.

She got like that sometimes; she was probably the most intelligent person he'd ever known, but her social skills were nonexistent. Often times she struggled with her blunt way of phrasing things, trying to find a more sugarcoated version of her words. It never quite worked right.

After another five minutes passed, and she still didn't say anything, he decided to nudge her in the right direction. "Just say it, Chloe."

She jumped in his arms, and though he couldn't see her face, as she had her back to him, he had a feeling she wore an expression of panic. "How long have you been awake?" she muttered.

"Long enough." Despite the fact that he'd been awake nearly as long as she had, his voice still sounded heavy from sleep, and somewhat muffled by her hair. "You want to say something; just say it."

She paused, considering her options, before deciding she had nothing to lose. "What are we doing?"

Okay, so for the most part he could follow her thoughts. Sometimes, though, she was just too vague. "Excuse me?"

"Us. Here. What are we doing?" she waved her hands around a bit for emphasis, but he was still having trouble comprehending.

"You need to be more specific."

She stopped to think about the best way to shape her thoughts into words, trying to break it down so it could be explained. After a minute, she shifted and turned around so she could face him. "You and me. Why are we always… like _this_?" she stopped, obviously frustrated with her terrible diplomatic skills. She gave a sigh, and then tried again. "What am I to you?"

He furrowed his brow in thought, trying to make sense of her ramblings. It wasn't working. "You're Chloe O'Brian, the _only_ woman who can confuse me without trying."

The look she gave him told him she was unimpressed by his attempt at humor. She bit her lip, wracked her brain for the right words, and finally settled on what she wanted to say. "Not like that. I mean… I mean relationship wise." She paused, and then continued. "Our relationship. How would you describe it?"

He sat up a bit- took in her tired appearance and patient expression- and chuckled softly. "Is that what you've been worried about?" she nodded, and he smiled fondly and brushed a few strands of her soft blonde hair out of her face. "I guess I was never very clear about that."

And, with that said, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her softly, but deeply, coaxing her mouth open gently. She gave him control at that point, and when he finally did pull away, they were both breathless. She watched him through half-open eyes while he gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, and he gave her a sly grin and nodded once.

"Very."

He kissed her again- sensually, enticing- and for once, she let her thoughts slow to a halt and simply went with it.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Once again, a pointless, fluffy fanfic that had no real purpose other than being entertaining. I've been bored lately, which is why I've been pushing out so many stories lately. But, then again, between an over-stressed leg and a nasty allergy season, I don't have much else to do. And yes, this one is open for a sequel. So, if you're good and _**review**_, I might just post one. (Yes, I'm bribing you all. I'm evil like that )

* * *

_


End file.
